


History has its eyes on you

by PinkRambo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 10:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14186457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRambo/pseuds/PinkRambo
Summary: She's tired, can't sleep. She leans on him for comfort and he gives her coping mechanisms to help her deal with her nightmares. Following the world of the Recalled Overwatch.Scene in the fic courtesy of non-fatmilk (http://non-fatmilk.tumblr.com/post/157547223398/poster-children) with the post linked in the name. Permission to use Disteal’s (http://disteal.tumblr.com/) Gerard in this fic granted by the artist.Beta'd by: Captain Corgi and UmbraMortis--Written and published in Stories From Watchpoint: Gibraltar Fanficbook.





	History has its eyes on you

Blood, crimson and terrifying, splattered against her HUD screen. She could see through the offal but only barely. Her comm was broken. There would be no evacuation. She had led them in here; she had lead everyone she cared for into the jaws of death. Tracer’s Chrono Accelerator fractured from an errant bullet. Lucio’s Sonic Amplifier was destroyed and the hard light making up his blades was shattered. They all lay in agony because of her. 

The MEKA was a sparking mess of wires and ruined technology, soon to be out of commission -

Covered in a cold sweat she sat bolt upright in bed. Her breathing was a pathetic pant and she shook like a leaf. Tears threatening to spill, but surrounded by those that relied on her, she couldn’t let them see her as weak; even if they all appeared to be asleep. Slipping into flats, she grabbed her sweater from a chair next to her desk and snuck out, heading up to the roof.

She could be alone there. 

The balcony was secluded from the rest of the base. The overlook across the ocean was breathtaking in the dusk hours. Now though, that view was ruined by lingering vestiges of her night terrors. A crumpled red package clenched in her hand attested to the unease she felt. In her other hand she held an unlit cigarette. The addiction could kill her, that was a known fact but when she couldn’t sleep sometimes that nicotine helped more than warm milk or a comforting embrace. Pulling out her ratty pack she glances inside; only three left. The mundane thought was comforting, and she searched for a lighter only to realise she didn’t have one. 

As if the realization brought what she needed, there was a pale purple lighter held out to her. She took it without thinking, assuming that it was Genji next to her, since he slept as little as she did. But glancing at the hand, she realized that another had snuck up on her without her hearing him, because that hand was encased in leather motorcycle gloves instead of a hand of silver cybernetics. With the lit cigarette hanging from her lips, she looked up at the Soldier. 

“You’re not going to tell me to stop smoking are you?” She asked in Korean unconsciously. She was willing to fight him for her right to smoke but he stayed quiet. He just took the lighter back, pulled off the mask and settled down on the balcony. She watched, from the corner of her eye, as he pulled out his own ratty and worn cigarette case. They sat on the edge with their legs through the bars high above the beach.

“No. I’m just going to smoke with you. It would be a bit hypocritical of me to tell you not to smoke,” he replied in heavily accented yet perfect Korean. Her surprise must have been apparent because he started to laugh; a deep, throaty sound. “Did you not remember I could speak Korean? I speak every language that this iteration of Overwatch does. I can converse with Lucio in Portuguese, Torbjörn in Swedish, Angela and Reinhardt in German. My Arabic is rusty but passable. Or are you more surprised that I’m not giving you a hard time about smoking?”

Hana flushed and puffed on her cigarette, letting the smoke curl from her lips. “Both I suppose. You always seem so uptight on missions. Figured you were like that all the time.”

“I used to be the hardass during the old Overwatch,” Jack shook his head. “Gabriel was the one who kept me level. I don’t have to be in the limelight anymore. That’s on you kids. Now I get to be the fun one. But I’m also here to listen. Wanna tell me what woke you up?” 

Smoke left his lips in a short stream. He glanced over at her yet only able to see the fuzzy outline. Her face was undecided. She shouldn’t share her problems with someone else, this wasn’t his problem. But he was the former Strike Commander, he had led people through war, through terrifying battles where the outcome was unknown. He might be able to help her. She missed sleeping like a normal person. 

“Nightmares. Mission a couple months ago that won’t leave me alone. Combine that with the time I spent in the MEKA corps before joining Overwatch,” She let the thought hang in the air like a lead weight then took a deep inhale of smoke. “I was the only one who came back, alive.” She continued then shifted to lie on her back and stare at the stars. She watched the old soldier stop, hesitate and close his eyes. “I wake up in a cold sweat. I get maybe two hours a night. Sometimes not even that. I lay there staring at the wall not able to fall asleep. It’s affecting me and not in a good way, I feel like I’m made of glass, Jack. Like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces. I have to be strong, I have to be perfect, or they’ll send me back to Korea. I’ll be a shame to my family name. So many are depending on me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and threw an arm over her face. “I never asked for this responsibility.” 

Jack shifted and examined her reaction. He tugged his right glove off with his teeth and took her hand, turning it over until their palms rested side by side on the concrete floor. She had callouses but not like his.

“They told me to hide my hands because no amount of makeup could hide the damage. But my hands are like this, looking so damaged, so that those pompous assholes could eat bonbons and drink brandy,” he paused and reached out to lay a gentle touch to the small parts still soft on her palms. “Yours are starting to look the same.” He pulled back to blow his smoke away before he continued,  her brown eyes watching him intently. “We shoulder the responsibility so that those who can’t don’t have to. We let them have their bubble of security when ours popped years ago,” Jack sighed softly, looking off in the distance. “And those that aren’t like that, we fight to protect them from the harsh reality of war. You can’t save everyone. ” His words were depressing, yet they brought her a strange sense of comfort. 

Angela had told her something similar, but the medic was usually so deep in her work that Hana questioned whether the doctor knew where the real battle was anymore. But Jack had seen the same horrors she had. He had fought alongside those that died then stood in front of millions to tell them peace had been achieved on the backs of those sacrificed. “The day will come when you have to make hard decisions. You will have to choose between staying back because that was your order, or doing what’s going to save millions. It’s a hard choice to make; deciding between the lives of the many or the lives of the few. No life is without its worth. It’s never gets easier. But when you do make it, I will be right there behind you.” 

He moved to release her hand but she strengthened the grip instead. “Would you just hold me? No funny stuff. Just a hug. Everyone’s so afraid to show affection here.” 

Jack glanced down at her and pushed back from the edge. Opening his jacket one handed he held out an open invitation for her. She moved over to him, slipping her arms beneath the leather to wrap around his waist. His arms enveloped her. She felt secure for the first time in months. 

“I’m also afraid. It feels as though everything I touch turns to dust, and ash. But I keep going because it’s what’s expected of me. I’m the Strike Commander, or I was. I have to lead people into battle, it’s the only thing I know how to do.” His words were soft with the soothing tone of a shepherd talking down a frightened animal. 

She stayed there, listening to him breathe and his heart beat. 

“How do you sleep Jack?”

“On my side with my eyes closed.” 

It took her a moment, before she dug her fingers into his side till he flinched with a dry chuckle.

“I had to,” he snickered. She rolled her eyes but snuggled back with a sharp warning jab of her finger to his sternum. “I tend to drink heavily if I really need sleep. It is easier with another warm body to keep me company. Human contact seemed to keep the demons at bay. So, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, I haven’t slept well in years. A full size body pillow sometimes works. It’s not perfect but it does the job.” 

Hana leaned back and looked up at him. “Really?”

He nodded with his lips creased in a sad smile. “Yes really. But if that doesn’t work, come find me. I’ll hold you till you fall asleep,” his hand was tentative but she didn’t deny him when that calloused palm pet across the crown of her head. “Then I’ll move you to your bed.” 

“Why? Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I know what’s it like to be drowning, Hana. I know what it’s like to be completely desperate in the need to be perfect in front of everyone. You don’t have to be that in front of me. You can be that frightened young leader here. I was the same way.” 

Hana smiled and hugged him again before reluctantly letting him go. The world had talked about the Strike Commander and his motives for Overwatch and the world, but the media was a circus, and only told the truth twenty percent of the time. She wanted to know his real reasons, see if they aligned with her own. “Why did you join Overwatch?” 

“To make a difference.” 

 

\---

 

Those words stayed with her; hung around her throat like a comfortable weight and reassurance. The former Strike Commander turned numbered vigilante had her back. He understood her situation and internal struggle and empathized on a deeper level than most.

The meeting had been going on for hours. There was more fires in Favelas happening in Brazil. Another attack was happening in Cairo, Egypt and in Moscow, Russia. Add to that the distress beacon going off near the old Antarctica EcoPoint, she felt the pressure closing in. Winston informed the group the beacon was a malfunction and the problem was quick to be shoved aside. Everyone was talking but Hana. She was staring at the map flickering and lit up with the locations that called for aid.

Through the three dimensional map her gaze met Jack’s. Even though his eyes were obscured by the visor she caught the way he winged an eyebrow up. That made her decision. She slammed open palms on the table. The room stilled. The silence that followed was deafening. 

“We can help everyone. We’re Overwatch. Fareeha, Ana and Lena you’ll go to Brazil. Help out there. Reinhardt, Jack and,” she trailed off for a moment before giving a small smile at the gorilla in the room. “Winston dress warm for Antarctica. That signal needs to be checked even if Athena says it is an error, since all of the operatives should be in Cryostasis, but we need to know for sure.” She paused looking over at Lucio. The musician looked ready to protest not being sent to his home town. “Lucio, Genji and Zenyatta you three are headed for Egypt,” she waited a moment giving the group a chance to protest. “Dr. Ziegler you’re going to find McCree. His last known sighting had him dealing with a train robbery in the States. We have some contact with local police departments, they should be able to assist you with finding him. We’ll need him in the fight against Talon. He was Blackwatch, so he’ll be useful. Tell him Ana will have his hide if he doesn’t return. Hopefully he’s still scared of her.” She glanced over at Torbjörn and smiled a little bit. “That leaves you and me for Russia. Athena will coordinate all the missions from here,” Hana swallowed and fisted her hands on the table waiting for them to say something; to protest. The reactions were all the same. They all smiled and nodded. 

“The plan sounds solid,” Jack was the first speak as he glanced at Winston and Reinhardt. “Just one small change for safety’s sake. You’re coming with me to Antarctica, Lieutenant Song. Reinhardt and Winston will join Torbjörn. We’ll need to use your MEKA to get in and out. Let the others use the drop ships.”

She nodded and sat back in the head chair. What he said made more sense. 

“Mother and I should go to Egypt. We know the area,” Fareeha quipped in looking at Hana closely. 

“You’re too close. That’s your hometown. It’s the same reason Lucio isn’t going to Brazil. It’s why if things go down in Korea I won’t be going,” Hana crossed her arms. “We also need to do some recruiting. Overwatch used to have hundreds of operatives and more than that for support staff. We need to get back to even half that number. But let’s start with these and we’ll deal with everything else later.” 

Brown eyes scanned around the rag tag bunch. There were gaps. The wannabe cowboy, Jesse McCree. The third of the Trinity, Gabriel Reyes. The tactician, Gerard Lacroix and his Ballerina wife, Amelie Lacroix; one dead, the other working for Talon. Those were the names she knew. The entire team from Antarctica. There was some in Russia they were trying to recruit. Her eyes stopped on Jack and she knew he was smiling at her before giving a small nod.

“If there’s nothing more that we need to cover as a group I would suggest organizing yourselves and heading out,” Jack stood. His tone brokered no arguments. “Lieutenant Song’s plan is the best one we’ve come up with so let’s do the best to execute her instructions.” He turned from the desk and gestured for Hana to proceed him. Hopping up to her feet, she strode out first, both of them heading down to the hanger bay. 

“What do you think we’re going to find?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping someone is alive,” the move was unconscious as her hand moved to rub over the bare skin of her upper arm. “But it’s better to know then to be left wondering. Or to let someone die alone waiting for Overwatch to come back.” 

“Then let’s hope the beacon is not just a glitch in the system,” Jack mumbled as he bundled into a fur lined heavy jacket and steel toed boots. He was still able to use his gun, and he wrapped the nylon straps that Winston has designed for Hana’s MEKA to the structure, climbing up into them, and settling in. They would secure him to her MEKA without fear of falling off of it while she transported them. She was bundled in similar warm gear; all bright pink to the sardonic black and gray of Jack’s. She clambered into the MEKA and started the warm-up procedures for the engine. “You okay up there Soldier?” She asked. She kept her comm activated and a careful ear out for his potential complaints. 

“Yeah I’m good. Whenever you’re ready,” he doubled checked the straps to ensure their security before giving her the go ahead to take off. 

This was supposed to be an in and out mission. 

 

\---- 

 

The mission was quick just as she had assumed. They rescued one of the scientists, and her research, bringing her and the research back to Gibraltar.

For weeks following the mission, Hana was haunted by the vision of those cryo chambers that had held the dead scientists, it frightened her in ways that war didn’t. At least in war you could fight for your life, but to put faith into a machine and die anyway? That was terrifying. Following Jack’s advice from that first night, she ordered a body pillow and slept curled around it nightly. He was right. The pillow didn’t replace the human aspect of warmth and comfort but the pillow worked well enough as a replacement. 

Overwatch continued to grow and expand. Jesse McCree came back, and Hanzo Shimada joined their haggard group soon after the cowboy’s return. They later discovered that Gabriel Reyes wasn’t dead. Neither Ana or Jack seemed surprised by this fact. Reinhardt was heartbroken over the information, Hana thought it rude and felt for the aging Crusader. The old commanders had all been buried by Reinhardt and they hadn’t had the courtesy to tell him they weren’t dead.  And this meant that the Reaper was with them. The specter dealt solely with Jack or Ana. This limited the rest of the team’s culpability when it came to the Reaper’s work. He was their inside man into Talon. His first priority, he made certain the others understood, was tracking and following Widowmaker.

There were rumours about this grand tactician, but they couldn’t track them down. Overwatch was again in the limelight and with Miss Song and Mr. Correia dos Santos in charge the organization looked to separate itself from the tumultuous past. 

There was a press conference for the new Overwatch. Jack observed from one of the balconies high above the news reporters running surveillance. He leaned against the railing, watching  Hana and Lucio answering questions like he had done in the past. There was a feeling coiling in his chest growing harder to ignore. It was like a hand wrapping around his throat, but swallowing hard he was able to ignore it for now.

He continued to watch, a smirk tugging at his lips. The sound of nanites rasped passed his ears and curls of soft smog warbled at his side. Gabriel appeared next to Jack a moment later without his mask and without any of the normal cover up; the glasgow smile, the extra eyes and the wisps that puffed out when he talked. 

“Worried about the new girl, sunshine?”

“Being in that spotlight can be overwhelming,” Jack glanced away from him, before he looked down at Hana and smiling a little bit. "But she’s doing way better than I was. She’s strong.” His ears filled with white noise and he lost focus of the room. His thoughts became circular and self deprecating; who was he to tell her how to handle all this? He hadn’t succeeded. He had failed because, in the end, everything he had done was rendered useless and obsolete. Thoughts ran in circles, feeding off each other, growing desperate and violent. They looped end over end to ram back into him again as constant reminders to how he failed. How he let the world down.

“Jack.”

The white noise disappeared as his face was pressed to Gabriel’s throat. The Reaper’s hand pet lightly through bone white hair and held Jack in a tight, close embrace. “That’s the past Jack. You did what was right in those moments. You did all you could with what the world gave you. ” Gabriel pulled him away from the edge. They slipped into the room behind the balcony so they could be alone from prying eyes. Jack clung to the front of Gabriel’s coat, hands fisted in the rough material, and allowed the turmoil of the past to come roaring out. He sobbed how sorry he was and words turned into incoherent syllables. 

“I know Jack. I stopped blaming you years ago. You need to forgive yourself. It’s time you had that golden boy confidence back.” Gabriel’s words were soft, not rejecting Jack’s pain or his anguish, but allowing the emotions to run their course. “Do you want me to stay tonight? I’ll sneak in while everyone’s asleep.” 

“No. We can’t risk your cover. We’re one step ahead of Talon’s attacks because of you,” Jack wiped his eyes and gave a quiet sniff. 

“Jack if you need to hold someone she could do. She’s not me-” 

“Clearly,” Jack interrupted.

“But she would fill the gap,” Gabriel continued unperturbed. “You need to sleep Jack.” Gabriel looked concerned. 

“I can’t Gabriel. Not - What  if she gets attached?” Jack shook his head. “Then we have a problem on our hands. Right now I’m just the fun one.” 

“You? The fun one? Even with the Statue?” Gabriel shot him an incredulous glance for a moment before laughing; a deep bellied, infectious sound.

Jack laughed along. “Are you sure you’re okay with me telling her about us? As far as anyone is concerned we still don’t talk beyond official capacity.”

“She’s bright. She’ll keep it to herself.” 

Jack huffed before he leaned into Gabriel. “Have you ever thought about why Overwatch is still fighting? Why couldn’t we, you and me, just run away? Get new identities, new faces. Just never deal with any of this again.”

Gabriel echoed the sigh and the sentiment and tightened his grasp around the back of Jack’s leather jacket. “Because we’re two honourable shitheads. When we took the oath to protect and serve, it was a till death do us part kind of thing.”

 

\----

 

They were stuck in an alleyway. The mission had gone south. She wasn’t sure exactly when but her MEKA had been used as a distraction and they ran. Now she was holding Jack up behind a garbage bin, praying no one would come by with only six shots left in her pistol. She wasn’t strong enough to use Jack’s pulse rifle. She had tried one day and had nearly broken her arms from the recoil.   
  
“Please don’t pass out on me. Soldier you have to stay awake, I can’t do this alone,” she whispered but he didn’t seem to hear her. Her body was collapsing under the weight of the six foot one two hundred and sixty pound man of pure muscle. She staggered and fell to her knees, searching him for a biotic emitter, but found none. Cursing softly, she radioed for an evac for the third time. 

“ _ Je suis en route, ma chérie. _ ”

Just for a moment she swore she heard the words, but that was impossible because no one on the team spoke French. She shook off the thought, holding Jack’s body to her chest, and protecting his head with her gloved left hand. A group of men filled the end of the alley and advanced towards them. She shouted a warning. The men didn’t stop. Firing her pistol, she emptied out the shots and watched the bodies fall. Only two of the group continued forward albeit with more caution. 

Listening to the enemy chatter, she paled in fear. There orders were to take any and all operatives they could alive. Shielding Jack’s face against her chest to preserve his facade, she scooted back until her shoulders hit a brick wall. She glared in defiance at the men still advancing. “Soldier:76 and D.Va. The bosses will be pleased,” the men smirked at each other before grunting suddenly in pain and falling forward to their knees. Behind the prone bodies descended a man on a grappling hook, swinging around like that old superhero Jack liked so much. He landed with an exaggerated tumble before standing and stepping forward.

“ _ Est ce que ça va? _ ” The man asked. He came towards them as if approaching frightened animals. He crouched and leaned forward to snatch his knives from the backs of the men.

That was the french she had heard before in her comm unit.

“Who are you?” She asked in accented and halted French.

The man tilted his head. His eyepatch showed clearly now that he was closer. His hair was slicked back like he was out for a night on the town. A stray hair betrayed that, instead, he was coerced into murdering two people to save a damsel in distress. 

“Let me switch to English. This is easier to understand me, yes?” He asked in near perfect English.

“Who are you?”

“My name is not important. But I’ve heard you were looking for me. Or at least Overwatch was.”

Hana’s eyes flared wide with realization. “You’re supposed to be dead.” The smirk that lit his face was so self satisfied and smarmy that she nearly hissed at him. 

“Gerard Lacroix at your service and,  _ oui _ , I am supposed to be dead. My dear wife wasn’t the assassin she likes to think she is. But the man in your arms is also supposed to be dead. Come on  _ chérie _ , let’s get you both somewhere safe, “ he stepped up, and took Jack from her arms, hauling the prone soldier up in a fireman’s carry. He glanced out of the alleyway to be certain the coast was clear.

She gathered up the pulse rifle and her own pistol, clutching the former to her chest and the later reseated in the holster. She ran after Gerard as they traversed the streets of France. She didn’t have the luxury of questioning him, or why he was helping them, but since he hadn’t killed them yet and was carrying Jack she wasn’t going to argue. 

They ended up in a relatively swanky apartment. The door closed behind her and she looked over the place with a critical eye. The housing seemed secure on first glance but that didn’t dissuade her nervousness. Gerard placed Jack down on the couch and she moved over to look over his still unconscious form. 

“Here _chérie_ this will help heal him,” Gerard held out bright yellow biotic emitter, and she turned it on, setting the medical device on the floor. They watched in silence while Jack’s features shifted from pained unconsciousness to restful slumber. Turning around, she placed an arm protectively over Jack’s chest, her palm over his heart and looked up at Gerard. 

“Why did you help us? You’ve been evading and avoiding us for months, so why now?”

“You’re in my home town. Did you think I was going to let you muck it up with your fighting? Besides, it’s high time you all had a skilled tactician on the team again. You’ve been doing well enough, I suppose, but your numbers are too large. You’re asking for trouble without someone in Overwatch who knows how to plan and coordinate. And I’m sure Ana has a few choice words to say to me when I get back. Something along the lines of ‘Gerard you fool! How dare you let us believe you were dead!’” He faked the voice fairly well and Hana had to hold back a giggle. 

Gerard settled on the edge of the coffee table looking her over. “You’re a little smaller than he normally went for. What’s between you and the former Strike Commander, Lieutenant Song?”

“Nothing. He’s just a close friend,” Hana replied just a little too fast. Gerard gave a tilt to his head and a raised eyebrow that said he didn’t believe her for a second.

“Nothing is between us,” she insisted. “I can’t let him be more than a friend. Besides, he’s still in love with someone else.” 

“Love is dangerous,  _ chérie _ . No matter what form it comes in. Cherish him and cherish him well. He will not be around forever. They never are.” There was a moment of sadness in those words before that confidence and sly smirk returned. “I’ll get you something to eat. Then we’ll see about getting you both back safe and sound.”

 

\---

 

When Jack woke up a few hours later, they were on a dropship back to Gibraltar.

Gerard Lacroix was sitting across from him.

Jack was sure he was seeing things. He said as much to Hana before Gerard spoke up.

“Still eating toast without anything on it Morrison?”

Jack gave the man a scathing glare. “I like it plain. Leave me alone Lacroix.”

The rest of the flight was in stone silence. But once they landed and were able to get out of their seats, Jack and Gerard were hugging like long lost friends. Hana smiled at them both, then moved off to what was left of her MEKA. She loaded the pieces onto a hovercart to piece together what she could salvage. She was going to be out of commission until she could get another MEKA working. It was difficult to keep them in commission when she was always out and about to fight with the team, and didn’t trust anyone else to work on the three she kept on base. 

There was a high pitched shriek from behind her. She whipped around to see Gerard taking cover with Ana threatening to shoot him. 

“No! Ana please!” 

“Gerard Bertrand Lacroix! How dare you!”

“Ana! I can explain!” 

“Don’t you ‘I can explain’ me Gerard!” 

Reinhardt came lumbering up into the dropship, stoically ignoring Gerard to help Hana collect the pieces for her MEKA onto the cart. They took a moment to enjoy the show of Gerard trying in vain to talk Ana down from shooting him with Jack’s pistol. 

When the pieces were loaded, she and Reinhardt pushed the hovercart passed where Gerard was hiding. Hana paused and leaned down, a taunting sneer creasing her face. “Gerard you fool! How dare you let us believe you were dead!” She smirked through the imitation of his own poor imitation and threw those words back at him. She pushed the hovercart forward again and kept moving with Ana’s continued enraged shouts echoing behind them. That laughter died off when Hana caught sight of Reinhardt and the sad expression on the old crusader’s face. 

Once they were away from the screaming and tucked away in her workshop, she tugged Reinhardt over to sit on the bench. She settled in the open cockpit of another half repaired MEKA. “I thought you would be happy to see Gerard again.” 

“It’s not a concern Hana. Please don’t worry yourself. You have enough on your plate with Overwatch,” Reinhardt’s hands wrung themselves together in his lap. 

“I can’t be a good leader if I don’t know what’s going on,” she smiled and was taken aback by the startled look she received in response. 

“You’ve been hanging around Jack too much,” Reinhardt ran a massive hand through pepper gray hair. He shook his head at some private, derisive joke. “You’re starting to sound like him.” 

“That’s not a bad thing. He was a great leader. He still is,” she added the last with a muted voice. “He’s helping me not make his- the same mistakes. Sure I’m going to make mistakes but it won’t be a repeat of history. So what’s wrong?”

“It’s hard to think that they didn’t trust me enough to tell me they were alive,” Reinhardt gave a soft chuckle and leaned back against her work table. “I mourned and buried all four of them. First Gerard, then Ana, then Jack and Gabriel together. And they didn’t have the courtesy to tell me that they were still alive.” Reinhardt huffed a sigh and crossed his arms across his barrel chest. 

Hana leaned forward and offered a sincere smile. “I’m sure they had their reasons. Ana wanted to leave this life behind, Jack wanted to find out what happened to take Overwatch down. And Gerard I don’t know,” she fidgeted with her fingers over the cool steel of the controls. “Why would you make it obvious that you were still alive after an assassin tried to kill you? I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt Reinhardt, but I think perhaps it was just too hard to get a message to you. You were under watch. And you’re so expressive Reinhardt, that they didn’t want to put you in danger. They care for you and it was shitty of them not to try but dead men don’t talk. According to the world they were dead.”

Reinhardt leaned forward on his forearms. “You’re wise beyond your years, Lieutenant Song.”

“I became too wise for my years when things went south in Korea,” she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her lips.

 

\-----

  
  


“Miss Song! What can you tell us about the accusations of Gabriel Reyes working for Talon under Overwatch’s orders?”

Hana stood behind the podium wearing the blue Strike Commander duster tailored to her dimensions. All her old medals were pinned to her breast and shone bright under the fake lights. Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the base of her skull.

“For one, it’s Strike Commander Song or Commander Song. You do not refer to me as Miss Song. And secondly, Gabriel Reyes has had nothing to do with this organization since his death. Regardless of what baseless rumour you may have heard, or that you may be trying to spread, Gabriel Reyes was a decorated war veteran who was unfortunately caught in the terrible explosion in Zurich twenty years ago,” she fielded the questions with a voice demanding attention and brokering no arguments. 

“Commander what about the wanted criminal Jesse McCree? What kind of organization allows a man like that into their ranks? And again at that?”

Hana took a deep breath to center her focus. Her hands tightened around the edges of the faux wood. “Jesse McCree was cleared of all charges. He is no longer a wanted man. He has been a great asset to the team.” 

“What about the disgraced Strike Commander Jack Morrison?”

“What about him?” She replied sharply. These questions were hitting too close to what she was comfortable answering.

Lucio stood beside her and glanced over with a hint of concern. The reporter had just touched on a sore subject. Jack was like another father and she never took kindly to people bad mouthing him. 

“Is it not true he broke into and stole important documents from Watchpoint: Grand Mesa?”

Hana’s eyes flared, and she opened her mouth to reply with a sharp retort only to get a subtle jab from Lucio. Glancing at him, she saw that his expression urged her to be cautious. She was already treading on thin ice. Turning back to the reporters, she exhaled slowly. Her hands loosened their white knuckled grip. “Yes, he broke into a Helix Security warehouse and stole a working Pulse Rifle. That was the only item he took from the facility,” She admitted with a bit of trepidation. “However, as he was the Strike Commander and held all the correct credentials, he did not steal any documents. They were his documents to access as they are now mine. He was hunting for those that tried to destroy Overwatch once before. What he did was questionable, but we were able to find the responsible parties because of his diligence and perseverance. Because of him and the rest of the division that worked with him, Talon is a few sects away from being destroyed completely.”

“What about Amelie Lacroix?”

“She was conditioned and brainwashed by Talon. The process of correcting that conditioning is lengthy. Given that her husband is alive, we are working towards bringing her out of the conditioning without ruination.”

Hana waited a beat then took a breath.

“If there are no further questions I will leave you with this: When the fighting is over, a new Overwatch team will be taking over. Those who fight are not designed to make peace. Our peaceful aims include: Medical research to eradicate the Cancer genes. Environmental research and implementation to increase crop growth in modern and less fortunate regions. Technological research into more Omnium independent Artificial Intelligence. We will not have another Omnic Crisis. We are working towards those goals. Any further questions can be directed to our PR department,” Hana stepped back and walked away from the podium. Lucio followed close behind her. 

“Hey, bunny, you okay?” He asked when he was certain they were alone.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Sort of.” 

“You nearly bit that reporter’s head off when he asked about Jack.”

Hana swallowed and leaned against the wall. Underneath her hair dye, she could feel herself going white. Lucio had long ago stopped counting his own grays. “He’s dying Lucio. I can’t lose him. I’m not ready to say good bye.” 

Lucio tugged her into an embrace and held her against his chest, letting her find comfort in the touch. 

“Bunny you have to let him go. When it’s his time to go, you have to say good bye. Do not resent him for what he has to do, and don’t let him know that you don’t want him to go,” Lucio gently whispered into the crown of her head. “It will upset him more if you make him regret what he can not prevent.”

Hana gave a choked off sob, clinging to her co-commander, and buried herself in the comfort of those words. “I know but it’s so hard. He’s become so important to me. How do you let them go?”

“I don’t know, bunny. But you need to figure it out. Does he know you consider him like a father?”

“No. I never told him. The time never felt right and I wasn’t just going to call him dad.” 

“Maybe you should tell him,” Lucio leaned back, his right hand tilted her chin up. “Before he passes away.”

 

\----

 

In the end she ran out of time. He passed in his sleep, curled up with Gabriel. Wrapped up in Gabriel’s arms, his demons finally silenced. 

When Hana found out, she sat down in her chair behind her desk, and found herself unable to cry. Numb was all she was left with, giving a small sigh as she looked up at Gabriel who was watching her, his eyes full of tears. She stood, moving over to wrap her arms around him, letting him cry on her shoulder. Hana didn’t allow herself to cry, instead just held onto Gabriel and let him lean on her strength. 

The next few days were arguments with the funeral home, with the PR department, even with Lucio. Her nerves were frayed, and she was always just a breath away from crying. Every time she reached that spot, it just stopped and her tears wouldn’t come. She thought something was wrong with her. She was unbelievably sad, but the tears just weren’t there. 

The day of the funeral was dreary, fitting her mood entirely. He had been gone for two weeks now, and she still woke up expecting to see him. Expecting to be able to talk to him about what was going on. And then she would check her emails and it would become all too apparent why she would never be able to talk to him again. 

Two outfits were laid out for her to wear. She had a choice of a sedately black dress, or her Strike Commander uniform. It would be one or the other for the whole day. She plucked at the lapel of her uniform, remembering Jack wearing that same uniform at the last official event that they had held. 

Next thing she knew, there were arms around her, holding onto her as she cried. The tears fell fast and hot down her cheeks as she clung to the person with her. She was wailing, unable to control herself. It took her almost fifteen minutes to calm down, and when she did, she glanced at who it was in front of her. 

It was Jesse McCree, his facial hair trimmed and dressed in his formal blue uniform, his medals and ribbons over the left breast. There were dark stains where her tears had soaked through to his suit jacket. “J-Jesse, I’m s-sorry.” She stuttered. 

“Hana it’s okay. It’s not the first time I’ve been where you are. First Ana, then Jack and Gabe.” He responded, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping her eyes dry. “It doesn’t get easier. And I’m losing Jack for a second time. Now, come on. We can fall apart together later. Hold it together for a little longer, pumpkin. Then we’ll be able to drink until we don’t know what our names are.” 

Hana swallowed and stood up with his help, looking at her choices again.

“Yah know, that blue always did look pretty good on yah.” Jesse offered as he stepped back. “I’ll be waiting just outside the door and I’ll be with yah every step of the way.” 

Hana swallowed and nodded. “Thank you Jesse. I’ll be ready soon.” Taking a deep breath, she watched him slip from her quarters and turned to her uniform, getting dressed mechanically, using his handkerchief to wipe her eyes occasionally. Her breath shuddered in and out of her as she tried to keep herself under control. 

Stepping out of her quarters, she stands next to Jesse for a moment as she fixed her hair into a bun at the base of her skull. “Alright Commander. Ready tah go?” 

“Yes. Jesse...before we go, thank you for this. For being there for me.”

“Of course darlin’.” He replied, as he held his elbow out for her. Hana put her hand in the crook of his elbow, and allowed him to escort her to the room where the main party of mourners were gathered. Gabriel stepped up next to the pair, and both of them hugged him tight. It was hard for all three of them, and they clung to each other in their grief. 

Gabriel and Hana sat front and center, holding hands because that is what Jack would have wanted them to do; to get solace from each other. Jesse, Reinhardt, Lucio, Hanzo, Genji and Zenyatta were the pall bearers, carrying the mahogany casket with the Overwatch logo carved into the lid. 

She didn’t remember the service. It was all a blur. She remembered vaguely getting up to speak at the podium, giving the eulogy. She barely remembered Gabriel finishing her eulogy because she became too overcome with her own grief to finish it on her own. The handkerchief was soaked with her tears, but she kept a hold of it. 

The small service at the graveside was for close friends only. It was just a symbol, because it had been in Jack’s will that he buried at Arlington if at all possible. They were at the statue of Jack where the empty casket had been buried years before, the grave dug up. Here there was a squadron with old fashioned twirling rifles ready for the 21 gun salute, military men ready to pull Jack’s casket off the hearse, and his casket covered with two flags: the United States of America flag, and the Overwatch flag. 

Those that didn’t stand up to talk at the funeral stood up now, and said a few things about Jack Morrison. Hana stood next to Gabriel with Lucio on her other side. The soldiers, before lowering the casket, folded both flags into triangles, giving the US flag to Gabriel and the Overwatch flag to Hana. Tears fell, but she didn’t move them from her cheeks as she tried to stay strong for just a little bit longer. There was the reception yet, but once they were through that, Hana could slip away from everyone. 

Everyone saluted as the casket was lowered, before a shovelful of dirt was thrown on the casket as people gave their final goodbyes to him. Hana and Gabriel were the last ones, holding each other’s flags as they put in their shovelful of dirt. They walked towards the media was being held back by Overwatch personnel. Gabriel stopped her well away from where the Media would see them. 

“I’m sorry Commander Song, this is as far as I can go with you. As far as they know, I’m dead. I would prefer to keep it that way. Jesse will be next to you in my place for the rest of the day.” He said as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. 

“Thank you Gabriel...See you back on base.” She replied, hugging him tight as she managed to keep control herself. Swallowing hard, she steps back and sees Jesse step up next to them, hugging Gabriel tight for a moment before he and Hana moved away to deal with the media and Gabriel dispersed into the wind to go back to the base. 

Jesse stayed next to Hana for the rest of the day, managing to handle both of their grief and keep her and himself controlled. When it was appropriate for her to disappear, Jesse let her know and they both disappeared back to her quarters, where Gabriel was waiting for them. He had four bottles in front of him, whiskey for Jesse, tequila for himself, and soju for Hana. The fourth bottle was for them all to share, and it was a tall bottle of Southern Comfort, Jack’s favorite drink. 

She slipped into her sleeping quarters, changed into lounging clothes, and came back out, her hair in a ponytail instead of the bun. She flopped back onto the chair, took the tumbler that held ice and soju in it from Gabriel who held it out to her. “Don’t start that just yet. We have to do a shot with Jack first.” 

Hana nodded, and gave a small sniffle, pulling her legs up underneath her as Jesse took his hat and suit jacket off to get comfortable, pouring himself whiskey into a tumbler with ice. Gabriel poured out three shots of Southern Comfort, handing the other two the shot glass. “To Jack Morrison, the best man who ever walked this earth. No matter what he did, he always had the best intentions.” Gabriel lifted his shot glass and the other two followed suit, downing the alcohol. 

Pouring out one more shot each, Hana lifted her glass and covered her mouth for a moment. “To Jack Morrison, the leader we all aspire to be like.”

“To Jack, the hardest man to impress, but the best man to have in your corner.” Jesse said off the third round of shots. 

The trio spent the rest of the night drinking, talking about Jack, crying, and comforting each other. Drunk from her alcohol, the other two as inebriated as she was, she asked them to stay, because her body pillow wouldn’t cut it that night. Given how drunk they were, both agreed, and spent the night wrapped around each other. It was a comfort for them all to have the contact. 

The next day, despite their hangovers, they finished dealing with Jack’s will, separating his belongings as was instructed. A month after he passed away, she trudged up to his grave site carrying two things with her. One was a square, wrapped in butcher’s paper, and the other was slung over her shoulder. That piece was heavy and bounced almost painfully against her back as she walked. Once over the crest of the hill she saw the telltale black smog. Gabriel sat before the headstone with his back turned to her. Shuffling up next to him she sat down in silence.

“He was a good man,” she said after a moment.

“He was the kind of man that made a person want to be the best iteration of themselves. He didn’t judge.” Gabriel didn’t look away from the grave stone, so she pressed the large bundled package in his lap. Glancing down, one clawed hand tore through the butcher paper and the gaudy blue and red that appeared told him everything: inside was Jack’s infamous 76 motorcycle jacket. The pulse rifle was set on the ground next to him.

Shrugging out of his long cloak, Gabriel pulled that jacket on and inhaled the lingering scent of Jack. “He was the love of my life. And now I’m stuck here while he’s gone.” Tears gathered in his eyes and he buried his face in the jacket again to hide his sorrow.

“He was the father I always wanted. I’m not a good replacement for him, but he once told me that human contact helps keep the demons at bay,” Hana heard the anguish and leaned against him.

Gabriel laughed through his tears, holding her against his side, resting his chin on top of her head. “I told him 10 years ago that he could share a bed with you just to give himself someone to hold onto. But he never did it. Not that I knew of.”

“Only once. The past came back and he needed someone. You weren’t there,” she murmured into the hold. The words didn’t carry the malice they might imply. Instead they sounded like the wounded flutter of a wing against a storm. “He explained the situation to me and I understood. He helped me so much. He gave me so many coping mechanisms, the ability to lead and the confidence to do so. He meant the world to me. And I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell him Gabriel. I always thought I would have more time.” 

She started to sob. Gabriel held onto her, letting her cry herself out. “I know but I’m certain he knew. He knew that you loved him and appreciated him. You didn’t have to say it,” Gabriel whispered as she started to calm down. “He knew.”


End file.
